Chapter II
Pity…
Haley stares at herself in the mirror, seeing the cowardice in her eyes. What is she afraid of? Was it Love itself? She was so afraid to stand up, so afraid to show her face. What was she afraid of? She looked so pitiful with her forever tearstained eyes.
Pitiful…
Day and night she thought of him, of his eyes of emerald and firm grip. Yet momentarily would glance at her green and silver tie lying upon her sheet, and dream about a scar, burning bright red, streaking a lightning bolt across soft flesh. AShe would curse and scream inside her head. It was because of who she was. She was his enemy, and forever destined to be.
And week after week she would lie in the hospital wing bed, staring out at the doors, lest he enters. She would then use any bit of her strength to push herself out of bed before he sees her. And Madame Promfrey would find her behind the curtains, brought to her knees in aching pain and weakness, trembling in tears. Her weekly visits to the Hospital wing were unavoidable. She was growing weaker and her strength was leaving her. Soon she would die. Soon she would die…
Death, to her was already a word that had grown common. She, in her whole life, never tried to hurt herself. Because she knew that she would soon die. It was within her whole life. Pity, she did not see the true meaning of life and grasp it, pity she hid herself from the world. But she was so scared that if she were to love, that her love would be crushed. Better to keep her out of the world, where she had no one, than leave a world of unhappiness behind. She would die alone, no one would notice.
Pity…
Harry grew thinner each day, as he lost his appetite each day, and glanced over to the Slytherin table. But he never saw her there. The Slytherins would look back and sneer at him. They spouting words of harshness towards him, as their tattooed mark on their arm burnt with pain. He was the biggest Gryffindor of them all, and they hated him for that. Pity he never dared to look harder, and find her at the doors, slowly walking out with food tucked neatly in her napkin. She never ate with them.
He thought of her. Was she, perhaps just a dream? He was tired, yet his arms still felt the fearful light weight of her small frame. She was so fragile, and that moment stayed imprinted in his mind. He still walked empty corridors, hoping that perhaps he would bump into her once more, like before. But hope was so little, and he had reduced himself to but a lovesick fool. Pity…
But then...
He saw her. At last he saw her. Alone in the dungeons she sat as she worked on her potions, her auburn hair strangled over her pale cheekbones, that stuck out prominently. A cliché moment was shared between them - a Gryffindor with an aching heart, and a Slytherin who felt hopeless in every way. And with determination, he stepped forward.
His footsteps gave him away. She stopped and turned, her eyes growing wide as he approached with sweaty palms and cheesy smile. Her heart pumped wildly in fear. She could not touch him, lest she hurt him. Her hands shivered as she pushed herself up, and with fearful speed sped past him, leaving all books behind.
And he, as he stood alone in the dim lights of the dungeon, stood in shock, as reality would sweep through his mind, wave after wave. She was afraid of him.
And that was how the Potions Master found him, clenched fist, head down, tears spreading down his boyish features, and every potion bottle in the Dungeon – broken to pieces.
Pity…How love has destroyed the young, how hope was just a candle flame, flickering dimly, threatening that at anytime it would, in a soft breath, go out.
Pity…